Muggle or Magic
by Kotama
Summary: I wondered about being reborn for 11 years contently living as a muggle until I'm told I'm eligible to attend Hogwarts. This isn't fan fiction. I wasn't born into a magical family, over talented magically, and the protagonists weren't drawn to me. I was just one person and uncertain of which path to take: a muggle or magical one. SI
1. More Than Fiction

Summary: You can't be reborn before you're first born can you? I wondered about that for 11 years contently living as a muggle until I'm told I'm eligible to attend Hogwarts. This wasn't fan fiction. I wasn't born into a magical family, overly talented magically, and the protagonists weren't drawn to me. I was just one person and I wasn't really sure what path to take. A muggle or magical one. SI

A/N: I know that I have other stories to update but my life is up and down hectic at the moment for several reasons and I don't want my personal life to influence the stories I have a lot of preparation for. I tend to go on another path in those cases then get stuck and I don't want that to happen. This story is still (loosely) planned by this time this SI is mostly really an SI with my thoughts and feelings. I guess it's a way to vent. This is also the first story written in first person so criticize all you want.

**Chapter One: More than Fiction**

I died. Lovely. I didn't even do anything with my life. As far as I remember, I was still a University student who missed more class than attended. I can't even remember what killed me. It better have not been those pills. I swear I didn't overdose and didn't have any alcohol. Or did I?

I wonder if my sister actually went through with the deal we made. She dies first and I play _Another One Bites the Dust_ at her funeral and if I were to die first, I was supposed to get a coffin because I wanted to be dead in one piece, not pieces, and just to be random to wear a gothic dress. She could go wild with the rest. What would I care? Funerals are for the living.

Ah crap my sister. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Now I feel like crap. I left my sister behind at such an early age. Most important person to me and we had made tons of plans together.

Where am I anyway?

.

Eventually I was born on November 4 to a British couple, Charlotte and William Hill, who live in the capital. They named me Sonya and I was their first child. This couldn't be normal. Maybe this was just a long dream. I've had stranger ones, so it wouldn't be a surprise.

But years passed and here I still was. I don't know when I officially came to terms that I had been born again. Much less that I was born in 1957—a time before my parents, but I didn't question it too much. I did often contemplate and wish to restart my life. Those wishes were directed to _redo_ my previous life, though, not a new one altogether.

Maybe when I'm older I'll come across my other self. That would be odd.

I still didn't know what to do with myself. I could easily skip several grades, because I wasn't fond of the thought of redoing my education—another country or not. But I like childhood as it's relatively carefree. Not to mention, there was one time I skipped a grade in high school for French and even that was awkward. When they offered me to skip another grade or two I rejected it as I felt uncomfortable enough. I don't like being in the spotlight.

And the severe lack in technology sucked. I could live without a cell phone. I never used it too much anyway. Except when I got lost. Then my data would drain like crazy because I was too prideful to call or ask for help or even a taxi. Internet was worse. I used my computer so much that I went through several in just a few years. I used it to search random facts, whatever interested me that day, to watch anime and read manga, and a lot of time reading fan fiction.

I was an introvert. Correction. Still am. Social interaction isn't bad per se but most of the time other people's choice of social outings and mind don't really mesh. That and while I do enjoy spending time with people, it uses so much energy that it exhausts me. It's the reason I don't have any friends now. Well, that and the mentality gap. My classmates' and my thoughts of enjoyment are much different. Well, they suddenly want to be friends when we half to work in pairs or groups because it's an easy grade for them with no effort involved.

I wish I could just make technology and all this other great inventions that will be invented over the next few decades. I don't not because it's unfair to those who actually invent them, but because I don't know how to. I'm not a mechanic, and while I know a bit more than the average about software, I knew nowhere enough to actually develop something. I wouldn't even know where to start.

I also thought about singing, but there were several problems. I was incredible young. Future popular songs wouldn't be popular today. More importantly, my singing sucks. Not so bad that you'll cringe and cover your ears, but definitely not something you would look forward to hearing.

So what did I do with my free time? Not much. Lounge around. Play some recreational sports, but nothing competitive, and when I could convince Charlotte—sorry, my mum—who by the way was a stay-at-home wife, I would go to the library. She didn't complain about me wanting to read. She fully encouraged it since she hated reading at her age, but the library was quite a walk.

To top it off I was still a picky reader when it came to "official" works. Don't like the writing style? Not reading it. Don't like the plot? Not reading it. Too cliché? Not reading it. To predictable? Not reading it. Also the many books that intriguing or not, they just couldn't capture my attention? Not reading it. Hence why for every fiction book I read, I probably read 25 nonfiction books. Just another reason my classmates thought me weird. Because who could possibly like geography over aliens, history over talking animals, French (which I needed to refresh on before I forget it all) over pointless plots, and science over happily ever after.

At first my parents didn't believe I actually read them. They thought it a phase to act more grown up. Then my old habit of spewing facts came back and then they began to believe I actually read them. How much I understood was another matter, though they did acknowledge my intelligence.

While school was boring social sciences was my favourite. At least it gave another outlook then the ones I grew up with. Different countries after all, commonwealth or not. There were still the censored history and misconceptions though. It's the education dilemma. Learn one thing then learn something else later on. Although, some things are never cleared up.

It was when I was nine and we were given another paired project I finally couldn't take school any longer. Karen, a meek girl who probably only constantly tried to hang out with me because I had no other friends and she had problems making friends, came to me to establish partnership. All was good until we got an assignment about colonization.

This was it. I couldn't do this any longer. To my credit, I lasted a little over four years.

That day when I went home I ignored mum's greeting and went straight to my room. I jumped on my bed, head burrowed under my pillow.

Charlotte slowly opened the door. "Sonya? Are you okay? What happened?"

My soft reply was muffled by the pillow. During this time she approached my bed and sat on the edge, rubbing my shoulder in a comforting manner.

"What was that?"

I brought my head up. It was hard breathing when your head was buried like an ostrich, so I was already a bit sweaty. "I said I'm not going back to school."

"Did something?" To her credit, Charlotte was trying to address the situation before bellowing how she _will_ be returning to school.

I didn't want to say this for the longest time, but because of my irritation and had a little pull of compulsion, I immediately gave in to explain how much school sucks. "I don't fit in. My classmates are stupid, or perhaps to be fair is I'm too smart for them. I'm bored and wasting my life away."

"A lot of people don't fit in sweetie."

Tears formed in my eyes. "You don't get it! While Ms. Tattelf teaches, I sit there correcting the text book. I can recap a large variety of European history, North American history, Chinese and Japanese history, bits of Africa, the rest of Asia, South America and the Caribbean islands, I know the basic functions of the human body and chemical compounds. I can communicate in my mother tongue perfectly fine. I'm also fine communicating in French, and if need be the basics of German and Japanese if I'm ever in a tight situation. And I don't need her telling me that exponents in the brackets need to be applied before any other exponents in the equation. In fact we skim over factors as we review multiplications, and I just want to yell that every number is divisible by another number. I could even do derivatives if she wanted me to. Not matrices though. I never could understand them. Unless it's a basic one. I'm bored. I'm frustrated. I'm not going anymore."

Charlotte took it in with shock. She knew her daughter was smart and picked things up rather fast, but even this was on an entire different level.

"But please don't think me a genius," I say softly. Even quieter to the point I don't think she hears me I say, "If anything, I'm a faker."

Charlotte hugged me as tears continue to poor from my eyes. She didn't know what to do. What could she do? Her daughter has been suffering by herself and she didn't notice its severity. When my tears stopped, she tenderly gazed at me. "We'll speak more when your dad come's come." I nod in silence.

Charlotte slowly walks to the door as if to really take in her daughter's room. Books neatly aligned on a bookshelf. Anything in a series ordered chronologically, left to right. No books to radically change in height or width with the remainder. The room was a mess with blankets, pillows, clothes and paper on the ground. It didn't matter how much she told me to clean, in a few days it usually went back to its mess. A desk in the corner of the room. Things piled upon it. The reason why papers littered the ground where I did my work. I occasionally did it at the kitchen table, but I usually got stuck setting the table if I did, so I usually avoid the area. Otherwise, there wasn't much else to the room. Just a mess. Charlotte did take note that the papers everywhere weren't doodles or homework. She needed a breather. This couldn't be dealt with at the moment.

Hours later I heard the front door open and close. It was 18:20 (6:20—but I have an obsession of using a 24 hour clock) meaning dad was home from work and dinner would be ready soon. I wondered if dad was relaxing or if mum already ushered him into a conversation about me.

.

It took a while of convincing, but my parents had finally been convinced that my knowledge was much more than it should. They suggested skipping several grades. Like secondary school. Because although I know a lot there are still gaps that England's curriculum required me to learn. I rejected it. I was not going to be around people who could be almost twice my age. It resulted in homeschool where I quickly went through the curriculum and spent the rest of my time how I wanted.

This went on for a few years until my life went through another major shock. July 12, 1969 an unexpected guest arrived. It was a Saturday and I was still in my pyjamas despite my mum urging me to get changed. My dad, relaxed as ever, waved her off and took my side. I really did like him.

Despite it being 10 I've only been up for a few minutes and was pouring myself a bowl of cereal. I was going to eat it on the couch. One thing my mum gave up on a long time ago. Television still was nowhere near the quality I was used to, but there were still some shows to watch. Actually, it's odd because in my past life I stopped watching shows on the T.V. when I was 13. But the original _The Jetsons _was on and I liked to compare from what little I remember of the remake.

It wasn't long after the show that a knock was heard. I offered to get it despite being in my sleepwear.

I opened the door only to do a double take. I've never seen this person in my life. Hopefully not a door-to-door salesman. She was a squat lady with short wavy hair. She had a large smile and an energetic vibe. Her clothes were dirtied. Overall, she came across as a gardener going door-to-door for some work.

"Good morning. Might you be Sonya Hill," she said.

Okay, that was enough to freak me out. Who was this person?

William came to my rescue as he too came to see who was at the door. They hadn't been expecting anyone. Despite her dirty hands, he offered to shake her hand which she enthusiastically took.

"William Hill, how may I help you?" Simple yet professional.

"Pomona Sprout. You must excuse me. I'm quite new at this."

Yep, definitely looking for work. New employee too. Then why did she know my name? And that name sounded strangely familiar.

"I'm starting this year, yet they have me help out along with the other professors."

My dad seem to have the idea that she might be a scout for me but was suspicious as to how they knew.

"I'll give you this." She pulled out a letter and gave it to me. "Letter for Hogwarts it is. I best explain."

Anything said after I didn't hear. Everything revolved around the woman, the letter, and my thoughts. Things seemed to click. Something far in my memory. But no one could just forget a series that went on for seven books and 8 movies. It spanned over half my life. No. This couldn't be. This had to be a joke. That was not the fictional Herbology Professor of Hogwarts from the Harry Potter series and this letter wasn't for me nor was it real.

This had to be a joke.

But the series wasn't written yet.

I-I couldn't be in Harry Potter. It was preposterous. It's like some cheesy, cliché fan fiction.

This was all just a dream. . . right?


	2. I guess I'm Going?

Chapter Two: I Guess I'm Going?

Dad was probably hesitant letting Pomona in. A complete stranger who apparently knew of his daughter and where she lived wasn't exactly reassuring, but she seemed harmless and he wanted things clarified so he allowed her in. Mum was surprised by an unexpected guest and eyed her husband for answers. He could only shrug in confusion.

"How can we help you—er…" Mum stopped as if awaiting for the witch to introduce herself, as if it would give mum the answers she wanted.

"Pomona Sprout. I'll be the new Herbology Professor starting this year. Your daughter is accepted to Hogwarts."

Dad interrupted. I just went to the large wool armchair and sat myself down, tucking my knees into my chest and resting my chin on my knees. "I think you may be mistaken. Our daughter is homeschooled and hasn't applied to any schools."

"Ah, I was getting there Mr. Hill. Hogwarts is not a school that one applies to; it is a school that invites special children. You see, Hogwarts is a school for young witches and wizards to hone their magic. Hence the name Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The glances my parents gave each other and the odd stares she gave the woman were expected. Probably believed her to belong in a mental ward. _I_ want to believe that she was loose from a mental ward. Twisting my wrist to stare at the envelope again, though, it couldn't be a trick. Not unless she was psychic and possibly a stalker.

_Miss. S. Hill._

_ First Room on the Third Floor_

_ 32 Gloucester Circus_

_ Greenwich,_

_ London_

Written in green ink, probably magically since I see no dye stains and it wasn't the write script to be from a typewriter. Twisting my wrist so that I could see the back of the envelope was the Hogwarts emblem. Or what I assumed was the Hogwarts emblem. It wasn't like I was going to remember something like that but it did say Hogwarts above it and four foreign words beneath which was probably the motto. Latin of course if the use of Latin for spells, from my volatile _Harry Potter_ memories, plus the use of the word Draco. Dragon. Right. Wasn't the motto something stupid and completely irrelevant? _Draco Dormeins Nunquam Titillandus._ Draco was dragon. Dormeins sounded like sleep from my knowledge of French. Nunquam sounded ridiculous and hadn't a clue what it meant and Titillandus wasn't much better. Dragon sleep… Sleeping Dragon. Once I go look up these words later, I'll probably slap myself for my inability to remember.

"Sonya. Sonya." Huh? I looked up and saw everyone staring at me. I must have blanked out. Damn. I wanted to know what they say to muggle parents and how'd they react. How am I magical anyway? I mean my existence may be from some magic because I'm fairly sure this reincarnation into an apparent fictional past with my memories intact—maybe rusty from the passage of time—was impossible. But other than that? Nothing that stood out for me. Though, I could be naïve when it comes to myself sometimes. I have my moments. But I should have noticed something. I tried to think of something when my name was called again. Right, they were trying to gain my attention.

"Hmm." I blinked stupidly at the three. It probably came off incredibly unintelligent and I wanted to slap myself for that.

"You weren't paying attention to any of that, were you?" The witch seem displeased with the turn of events. She'd probably expected a happier reaction. She said she was starting this year, didn't she? And there weren't many muggle-borns. Most students would be half-bloods.

Reluctantly I apologize. "I was lost in thought."

Mum came and kneeled down by me. "Is that why you spend so much time by yourself?" Her expression was like she just completed a puzzle, but didn't know if she was satisfied with the image. "If odd things were happening to you, you could have told me. Told us." She corrected to include dad. "You could have still gone to school, join activities, made friends." No. No. No. She was going to blame my introvertness on me having magic and being scared to tell anyone. No. I mean, no one my real age, let alone kids a few years older, would want to hang out with me anyway because of the age difference. It's like this socialization that you must hang out with people your age. And I didn't want to hand out with people who immaturity was completely evident. I was too shocked she came to that conclusion that I remained silent and my parents took that as confirmation.

My dad squatted on the other side of me and took my hand. They must have already been convinced magic was real and I missed out on it. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the idea of magic. I can't really blame him. He was religious—a non-practicing one, but he doesn't announce that. It wasn't even his religion that made him uncomfortable, though I couldn't entirely rule that out since it's fully possible. It's just something unscientific. Something against all the rules society has governed to be true. So to know not only its existence, but that his daughter—his only child to be part of it, would be unsettling.

He stared me in the eyes. Something that always makes me feel uncomfortable, but I couldn't look away as I knew he was attempting to have a serious discussion with me. "I know it's not easy being different from those around you. You're a strong girl for putting up with it for so long. But I want you to know that you don't have to be afraid." My eyes started to water. Not from his speech, but long term eye contact really makes me _that_ uncomfortable. Of course my parents took this in the wrong way.

Mum added her thoughts allowing me to break eye contact with dad to look—damn it. Caught in another eye lock. It was her who I was currently more surprised with. She's a very sentimental person. Soft hearted, cries easily, and if you were to talk about magic, she would easily think of a wicked witch before a fairy godmother. Add the fact that she treasures dad and me, and this stranger wants me to attend a boarding school where home visitation is limited… To see she hasn't broken down yet is actually a surprise to me. Though that may be because of our company's presence.

"I'm so sorry I hadn't realized something wrong earlier. I'm your mother and I couldn't tell. It'll be good for you to go. You'll finally be able to make some friends and learn something new. You'll be somewhere you're comfortable." I was honestly surprised she was telling me to go. I would have guessed that she would fight every step of the way for me to stay. I guess I misjudged her.

Pomona clapped in delight breaking the sentimental moment. I would have been happy if it wasn't for the fact that they all assumed I wanted to go. I didn't know what I want. It was magic and I was curious. It would be something new to learn. However there were a lot of negatives as well. A war was coming within the next decade. Not something I wanted to be a part of. Especially being a muggle-born. Then I'd be trapped at a school with nowhere to go if I wanted to leave. There would literally be eyes everywhere. The magic community was a small one, forcing me into social situations with people I'd have to see again. Being segregated into houses and being judge based on that. And did I mention lack of privacy. And what happens if someone looks into my head. Legilimency was it?

"Oh I am curious. There are plenty of theorists that believe accidental magic indicates what magic the child will excel in. May I ask what've you done?" Her eager eyes were alit with curiosity. My parents' expectant eyes on me as well.

The truth wasn't what they wanted to hear, so to fill their expectations didn't tell them the truth. Lying was easy. "I've made a book float down to me in the Library. I couldn't reach it then it just floated down." Lie. "I've also dropped a plate when I was putting dishes away. It repaired itself." Lie. "Oh! And I once predicted a pop quiz, though it could have just been déjà vu." Another Lie. Even if I do go to Hogwarts I will never take Divinations—did they even have a divination's professor at the time?

"Charms probably then." She seemed a little disappointed. "If Charms does turn out to be your strength, Filius will be thrilled. Ah, Professor Flitwick. He's Ravenclaw's Head of House." She eyes the unopened letter. "Well go on. Open your letter." With their usherings, I finally opened the letter. In my past life I'd bought a book with the same letter, so I wasn't surprised with its contents. Although, the material was definitely different.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss. Hill, _

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

McGonagall was already Headmistress? And could this letter be anymore standard. "Can't I just give you my response?" It came out sudden and forceful, and took everyone by surprised. "I mean you can't expect me to have an owl to deliver this.

The professor seemed understanding as she confirmed that their written response would be personally delivered. Before I knew it I found myself pressured into writing an acceptance letter despite my conflicted feelings.

The professor spoke longer. Explaining where the Leaky Cauldron was and saying how to ask Tom for the entrance. Oh yeah, I forgot medieval setting to my list of reasons not wanting to attend. Not that I don't find that time period fascinating, but living it a similar setting wasn't something I was hype for. Glancing at the required supplied, my eyes landed on quill. My writing will forever be ruined. She explained a few more things to my parents to make them feel more comfortable, like Gringotts and the exchange system.

Eventually, the professor left and the mood shifted in the house. I wasn't sure whether it was good or bad.

.

We ate seasoned chicken for dinner with baked potato and steamed vegetables.

"We'll go next weekend to get your supplies. I'm sure you're eager to explore." Dad had the weekends off work and while the Leaky Cauldron was here in London, I'm sure my parents needed more than a few hours to start to accept the change in their family before confronting it in a new setting.

"Okay," I say before taking another bite of chicken to eat.

"At least our food bill will be cut." Her attempt at a joke was weak but got a conversation going. Even if it was a stab at my eating habits.

"They say boys eat more than girls. If it's true, I'm glad we had a daughter. Imagine how much food we would have to buy if Sonya was Davis." He grinned at the thought of it.

I was going to let them laugh as I continue to enjoy my meal when I paused at the name Davis. "Davis? Were you really going to name me Davis if I were a boy?"

"It was either that or Michael." I froze at that. It was a common name but it was also my original dad's name. Yep. Really happy I turned out to be a girl—besides for obvious biological reasons.

"Well I'm glad I'm a girl then." Really, my name didn't matter too much to me as long as it wasn't something ridiculous or something that could easily be made into a gag. I shoved more food in my mouth which amused my parents.

Well… if it eased the tension, they could laugh at me all they want.

.

A week passed fairly quickly. I was anxious. I wondered if it would look anything like the movies. Not that I remember it too well, but I think I remember enough of the description to get an idea into my mind.

I rolled right out of bed, attempting not to step on anything on my way out. My nose led me downstairs to the kitchen where mum was cooking waffles. "Do you need help with anything?" As lazy as I may be some days, I felt bad for her always taking care of me. I offer to do things on occasion, but there was only so much I can do in the kitchen. Cooking has never been my forte. I don't know what it is about it, but I probably have a 90% failure rate on anything past the basics. And even the basics sometimes don't turn out how I expect. Still edible, but the taste can be questionable even with a recipe.

"You can rinse the fruit and place it on the table." She probably didn't see my nod, too occupied with her own activities, but I did as she said. I then sat down at the table. I made it down before dad, so I took the newspaper which he usually reads before family breakfast.

I skimmed over content to read the entries I wanted. Over the past few days, the paper had entries about the Americans landing on the moon from Apollo 11. A statement from Armstrong said, "It fills about three-quarters of the hatch window and, of course, we can see the entire circumference, even though part of it is in complete shadow, and part of it's an earthshine. It's a view worth the price of the trip." I wasn't a fan of space. It's the reason why sci-fi usually wasn't an entertaining genre for me—because a lot of it involves space. I did doubt that the view itself was worth the price of going into space. That was a lot of money and risking your life after past attempts.

I didn't get much further until dad came down and I gave him the paper without him asking. Mum was bringing out breakfast anyway which I was more excited for.

"After breakfast, go get dressed. We'll go once we clean up and dressed to go." The latter addressed specifically for me.

"Aye. Aye. Sir." It was a joking tone as I put a lot of fruit on my fluffy waffle. If my parents say I inhaled it, I'll deny it.

.

I tried not to have high expectations. If I was going it better be worth it, however, I have a habit of overestimation which leads to let downs. Like now for instant. I know the Leaky Cauldron wasn't supposed to be fancy, but I expected a little more. No doubt my parents agreed with me. They may even have doubts that this really was all a prank.

We asked for Tom and with a quick explanation he led us to the back. The pub was relatively empty. It wasn't yet noon, so it was understandable. However, a few glances came our way as we easily stuck out. I didn't know how much until Tom opened the passage saying it's best to remember the code, but to ask if I forget.

Diagon Alley really was an alley. It was quite narrow. At least it wasn't too busy. More people probably waited longer. I can't blame the older students. Or anyone for that matter. Out of school for less than a month, I doubt they want to prepare or even think about next year yet. My parents watched me as I took the first step. It was my experience after all. This is what I would be living with. It was like living in another _world_. Not that it was.

"I guess we should go to the bank then." I glance at my dad questionably.

"We'll find it. It looks like we can only go forward. We shouldn't get lost."

I was nervous. This was new. This was different. Did muggle-borns usually jump in excitement, or were they as nervous as me. And here I am generalizing us. Of course we'd all react differently. I guess I just want to feel like I'm not the only one feeling this way.

We walked down taking in the scenery. The shops were side-by-side and there were so many of them. Even with signs I couldn't keep track of what everything was. Oh wait. That is definitely a Quidditch shop. The broom in the window is a giveaway. "So they really do ride brooms?" mum muttered.

And the Owl shop that if it weren't for the sign, _Eeylops Own Emporium_, I would have long forgotten the name. More familiar names came, but they weren't the shops we needed right now.

We finally came at a crossroad. The dark alley was somewhere we were going to stay away from. Like, at all cost. Especially with my parents with me. It may sound judgemental but it's a perfectly logical precaution. The other direction (forward) seemed normal, but we needn't go further as we reach the bank. _Gringotts Wizarding Bank._

We entered and my mum was quick to say she would just wait outside. She may not be comfortable alone in an unknown place either, but the Goblins made her more uncomfortable. Can't blame her. They certainly don't look pleasant. And the way they worked and the gleam in their eyes; it just seemed like some over stereotype of someone obsessed with money to the point of it being the only thing they care for.

As if sensing my dad wanting to leave, I said, "You are not leaving me alone." He'd been reaching into his wallet to give me money. Probably going to use the excuse of 'you're growing up and will have to do more on your own' bullshit.

Seeing my heated stare, he closed his wallet and chuckled nervously. "Right." I narrowed my eyes in disapproval.

I stayed behind dad as he exchanged currencies. The Goblins probably weren't happy that they were regulated to give _gold_ for paper. The one we dealt with was hostile, though I doubt it was just ours. He counted the money precisely before exchanging it with wizarding currency. It was then I was glad I brought my small purse to put the money in because it wasn't going to fit in my dad's pockets. It was heavy though, which brought back my appreciation for paper, cotton and other fibres.

My dad and I had the same thoughts, and walked out as fast as we could without us looking desperate. Our faces must have been pale, or frightened, or disturbed or something because mum found it funny. She should have come in with us then she wouldn't have been grinning.

"What should we get first?" They were giving me control of the trip. As much as they were also trying to adjust, they were trying to make this day special for me.

"Um…" I took out my list. Books were going to wait because they'd no doubt be heavy and I knew no magic to make them lighter. "Why don't we go to the end of the path and start from there?"

"Sure."

The path continued and there were more and more shops. I was grateful that most people were accustomed to the occasional muggle-born and their family or that they were more engross in their own affairs then mine. At the end was a junk shop. Yeah, not going in there.

"I think we can all agree on that," said mum who was confused why a junk shop even existed. I jumped startled. I hadn't meant to say that aloud.

"R-Right." I look around. "_Ollivander's_ it is then. Getting a wand. Right to the point, I suppose."

My dad put a hand on my shoulder to urge me forward when I just stood out front of the door for a moment.

I walked in and headed straight towards the counter separating my family from the wand.

Ollivander was an aged man. Grey hair and many aged line marred his face. Despite this his seemed full of energy which gave him a sense of being younger than he probably was.

"Now here's a new face." His eyes flickered towards my parents. "Muggle-born then."

"Yes sir."

"Well no matter. You're as welcomed to my shop as any other. Wand arm?"

"Right." I lifted my arm as his magical tools did his things. I was confused to how he knew the measurements when he didn't even look.

He went back among the shelves of wands. There were so many. He finally decided on one and brought it out. "Eleven inches, Mahogany, with a Unicorn hair core."

It felt weird holding a wand and gave it a wave. Whatever I anticipated, never happened. In fact nothing happened. I stared at Ollivander's retreating form as he took the wand back and went for another. This better not be a Harry Potter incident where I go through what feels like a million wands. Or what if there isn't a wand for me? I don't remember signs of magic, and this all could just be a mistake. But then I would have to confess to my parents about lying.

My ruminations came to a conclusion as Ollivander brought another want. "Thirteen inches. Larch. Dragon Heartstring. Rigid."

Dragon heartstring? I'd place my money on a unicorn hair more. They tend to me more loyal. I picked up the wand. I didn't expect anything, but the moment I picked it up I felt something surge within me. It was an odd feeling, but it was also warming. It was like I was transported somewhere else. Somewhere only I was.

I snapped out of a daze as a realized that people were waiting for me to try it. I gave a wave and a big bright glow occurred. An unknown feeling swelled within me. Do I truly have magic?

The old man ruined my personal moment as he applauded. "Well then, it's decided." I paid him and I left with my parents.

"I wonder why you had to try two," my dad mused.

"It was probably just a defect," replied my mum.

"The wand chooses its owner."

My parents stopped to stare at me. Did Ollivander not explain this? Thinking back, he didn't. I didn't question him about it either, though.

"Sonya, how do you know that?"

"It's the motto or something. It was engraved into the counter." Another lie, but I wouldn't be needing another wand, so they'd never know. "Um…" We were about to pass the second-hand robe shop. "Should I buy used robes? They're just clothes and all this stuff is expensive enough."

"Don't be silly," said Dad. "You're going away for nearly a year. Just think of it as they money you would have spent on clothes and food." I could tell he was trying to be easy going, but I could tell he just wanted to do what he could for me, and the only real way he could at the moment was buy my supplies.

I felt a little guilty. I really wouldn't have minded. I was lucky that my family were fine financially. Not rich, but we didn't have to worry about the bills and had some left over to have some fun. But in my past life my family got stuck in the recession. Had to move towns twice; one year I barely saw them; wore hand-me-downs from my aunt who was about my height and wore old stuff for years. I never complained. Not only because one year I hardly saw my parents, but because it wasn't their fault. They tried everything they could.

Passing _Magical Menagerie _my parents asked if I wanted an owl, cat, or toad as the letter indicated I was allowed. I refused. I was never good with pets. They're great at first but it's hard to take care of another life even with minimal requirements. I've gone through two birds and six guinea pigs. Eight if you count the two that were dead upon birth. Then there was also the cat I help take care of when I lived at my grandmother's. It was my aunt's cat. Also, I had one friends who had an insane amount of pets (from a dog, something like six cats, an 'evil' rabbit, a fish, and rats. I also think she had a hamster at one point). So yeah, not too enthusiastic about it. Plus how do I take care of a pet at Hogwarts? Let it wander.

We passed Gringotts again, meaning we were about half way back. The next stop was _Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions._ "If you two want to go get ice cream or something I'd understand. Through the window I could see a few others getting fitted. "I don't know how long this will take."

"Are you sure? We'll come in with you."

"It's fine, mum. Just hope that Goblins don't work in the ice cream shop either." Of course they wouldn't but they didn't need to know that. Her face whitened as she dearly hoped not.

As I enter the shop, I got ushered to the back. There were two stands open. They probably offered extra height to make it easier to tailor the bottom. The length was important after all.

"New to Hogwarts," a woman asked. I nodded. I didn't need an emblem sewn on. It made me wonder what house I'd be put in but didn't think too long on it. "I'll be right back."

"You're new?" I looked over to a boy taller than me. He has large pores and a long face. He was probably a few years older and he was in the middle of the process of being fitted. I got a look at the emblem. Blue and copper. Ravenclaw.

"Yes. I suppose you aren't if the Ravenclaw emblem is anything to go by." A smiled as I attempted to make conversation. Small talk I could do, even if it did sound awkward sometimes _because_ it was small talk.

"Alan Blackburn. I'm entering my third year. I come here early every year to beat the crowds."

"Sonya Hill. First year. Unaffiliated yet."

"Don't worry. You can face the initiation dragon along with my brother Matthew. He's starting this year too. I don't know if you can see, but he's in the back corner getting fitted now too."

I try to turn my neck by my vision wasn't very good. I could tell that he wore classes, had dirty blond hair, and while he wasn't obese he looked to just tip onto the overweight side. Nothing out of control, but noticeable enough.

"Kind of," I reply. "And I won't be fighting a dragon, nice try. Did your brother believe that?"

"Why is it that no one believes me?" he whined. "Well you two are the only one's I've tried it on."

"Maybe your brother thinks if first years had to fight a dragon, you'd be long dead." It was partially sarcastic and also a bit of a jab, but by his shocked face, perhaps I crossed the line with someone I didn't really know.

"So not nice. But logical enough, I suppose. At least I'll approve your reasoning," he said in a defeated manner. He sighed. "So what house are you hoping to get into?"

"I don't really have a preference. Any would do." I thought about it honestly for a moment. "Except maybe Gryffindor. No offense to them, but I don't really picture myself fitting in with what they stand for."

"Not worried about the sorting _and _you have no preference. Not to common, that is. Usually scared out of their wits or have egos knowing where they're going—or at least where they want to go. I'll vouch for Ravenclaw. We won the house cup last year." He flinched as a pin pinched him.

I cringed at the thought, which led to me being touched by the needle. Yep. Sharp things suck.

Luckily for Alan, his fitting was done. "Well see you around, I guess." Without another word he left. Well, he was probably waiting for his brother, maybe, or maybe he was with friends. Either way I now had no one to converse with leaving her to focus on how long it takes to get fitted and the amount of times I was poked with a needle (since I started counting 14).

I was so thankful when I was done. When I left the building, I took a big gulp of air at how nice it was to be out of there.

_Flourish and Blotts_ was the building right beside the last, so I went ahead. I had gathered most of my books when my parents found me. They allowed me to get a few extra books since I didn't know what kind of life I was getting myself in. I guess this was there way of helping me ease the transition. I kept thanking them the rest of the day as we bought the rest of the needed supplies. The left over change, we decided, was to be left to me because none of us were eager to return to the bank.

.

As we drove home, I decided to speak up. "I know this is hard on you. Allowing me to go to a boarding school at this age and all. Learning things that you might not be able to fully comprehend. But I want you to know that you both are great parents. You're kind and put me before yourselves. So thanks. For everything. For raising me, for being my support, for taking this in so calm when you are probably anything but calm. Also for taking me here today and buying me this stuff for school. I really mean it. I'm really grateful."

Like the sob my mother was, she wiped her tears before they fell. "Don't be silly. Of course we'll be here for you. We're your parents."

I wanted to say not all parents are good parents. Not all parents would go so far. But anything else I say would ruin the mood I set up for them, so I remained silent.

I was happy to have people who care.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Probably not my best writing but it's all pre-school so I never intended to spend much time on it. I don't really think you need to go through several years of little happening.<strong>_

_**Also...Anyone else like Fate/Stay Night or even Type-Moon in general. Because I can totally picture Illyasviel going to Dumstrang...too bad I don't have ideas for a plot. Only scenario plot bunnies.**_


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